Arrival in London

Although it was only an eight-hour flight, we crossed five time zones, so that while we left Charlotte at 6:30 p.m. we did not arrive in London until 7:30 a.m.  Planted on the rear of the seat in front of me was a tiny screen which provided entertainment and information, and it was there that I discovered that the total flight distance was 3,979 miles and the altitude was 28,000 feet.

I watched the Kenneth Branagh movie All is True, which is about Shakespeare retiring and returning to Stratford-Upon-Avon.  I always enjoy Judi Dench (Anne Hathaway), and neither she nor Sir Kenneth dissapointed; the movie also proposed a possible solution to the puzzle of why the Bard famously left his wife his "second best bed."  It also reminded me that in three days time we would be visiting Shakespeare's birthplace.  We dangled between wakefulness and sleep as the long flight took us across the North Atlantic from one continent to another and we watched the sunrise outside.

And then suddenly we were descending in thin fog at Heathrow, the beautiful patchwork-quilt fields of England which I remembered from our landing at Gatwick Airport 15 years ago not even visible.  We negotiated customs and security with no problem, but found ourselves searching in vain for the man who was supposed to be holding a sign bearing our names in the Arrivals Hall.  Finally, a kind information officer loaned us his cell phone, we made a call, and we were connected with our Hindi driver.  He led us across a parking lot to a brand-new, immaculate black Mercedes, and drove us nonchalantly through morning rush-hour traffic to our hotel.  Lack of sleep and what was at that point a very long day made us thankful that we were not driving.

We talked to our driver a little about soccer ("football," as they say) and about politics, and I discovered that he along with, apparently, nearly the entire population of Britain cannot understand why Brexit is looming on the horizon.  "Nobody wants it," he said, and shook his head.  I followed his route through teeming London on the Google Maps app on my phone, which alone seemed to be working overseas (we would find that we could log on to WiFi at the various hotels where we stayed during out trip), and as we passed some apartments ("flats") next to Hyde Park, he told us that they were the most expensive in the world at $160 million pounds.  Finally, he deposited us at the Hard Rock, which I had read about while researching our journey.

Formerly called the Cumberland, Jimi Hendrix had often stayed here and had a room on the fifth floor.  Other guests had included Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross, and Madonna.”  

Classic Rock played continuously in the background, and the walls were decorated with pictures of the Rock and Roll greats, their beautiful guitars in glass cases, and other memorabilia from the 60s and 70s which I had enjoyed in that coming-to-age period of my youth and which I still appreciate for its revolutionary innovation.

The hotel was diagonally across from the iconic Marble Arch on the northeast corner of Hyde Park, which we could see from the front door.

It is also famous for Speaker's Corner, where since 1872 anyone can stand on a "soapbox" and speak about anything.  Historic figures such as Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, and George Orwell were known to often use the area to demonstrate free speech, and the suffragettes also grew to prominence there.  One of our guides told us that the authorities gave the area a blind eye because, standing on a box, the speakers were technically not on British soil.

It was mid-morning by the time we checked in, and of course - what had we been thinking when we scheduled an overnight flight? - our rooms were not yet ready.  So we two jet-lagged travelers checked our bags with the Concierge and wandered down Oxford Street for an hour or so, marveling at the many cultures, the many languages, and the many wardrobes of this most cosmopolitan of cities.  Marks and Spencer and Selfridges were just a block or two away.

 

I had expected, but was surprised, to see so many men wearing turbans of one sort of another, and women wearing the traditional Hijab and Chador, and even the black Niqab with a mere one-inch slit for the eyes visible.  It is a bit of a culture shock to we residents of Highlands, where wealthy women parade down Main Street in Versace sunglasses and very expensive boots but do not wear such extremes of clothing.

Finally our room became available mid-afternoon, and almost immediately we stumbled in and took long afternoon naps, waking only slightly refreshed - our first day of jet-lag that would persist for two or three days.  Downstairs, we discovered that the Hard Rock hosted different bands every night, and a very good band was tuning up while we ate a light dinner, retiring to our room again before they began playing in earnest at 9:00 p.m.  Tomorrow promises to be a busy day.

In our room, I discovered that the mirror was engraved with the heights and names of various musicians who had stayed in the hotel, including Bob Dylan, Madonna, and Lady Gaga.  The shortest, ironically, was Ariana Grande (5'-0"); the tallest was Jay Z (6'-2").